Wheels Up
by Subtle Nuance
Summary: Wherein Reid attempts to make Hotch dinner for their anniversary. Prompt fill for dinahqueen.


**Author's Note: **"Wherein Reid attempts to cook dinner for Hotch for their anniversary." Prompted by dinahqueen.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters, this didn't happen, and I make no money from it.

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Roses. Candles. Wine.

Spencer Reid stood in the middle of the living room, furiously counting off on his fingers, brow wrinkling in frustration. It was his and Aaron's one year anniversary today, and Spencer was determined to make it perfect. A romantic dinner at home, for once. The only thing in his way now was the cooking.

Spencer's hands fell to his sides, and he frowned. Cooking. Not a thing that he really knew how to do. Still, he would make an effort.

Aaron wouldn't be home until 5, as the Bureau had sent him off with Rossi to UVA to recruit for the FBI. Spencer was relieved they had finally stopped sending him – he didn't think he could take one more instance of his existentialism joke falling flat.

Bustling around the large kitchen, Spencer donned an obnoxiously colored apron before pulling down all the pots and pans he would need to make lasagna and garlic bread. Just as he was about to pull the ground beef out of the freezer to defrost, a loud sniffling sound made him look up.

"Spencer," Jack said, standing in his blue Superman pajamas and rubbing a fist sleepily at his eyes, "I'm hungry."

Smiling, Spencer closed the freezer door. In all his worry about cooking dinner, he had nearly forgotten he was in charge of Jack for the day. A sick Jack, at that.

"Would you like a bowl of cereal?" Spencer asked, already reaching up onto the top shelf to retrieve the box of Froot Loops.

Jack nodded and shuffled into the kitchen, dragging a stuffed bear behind him by the arm. Spencer poured him a bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice before making his way to the other side of the island and lifting Jack up onto one of the high chairs. "How are you feeling?"

Jack kicked his feet back and forth, bear falling to the floor as he picked up his spoon and swirled it around in the milk. "Stuffy," he said.

With a smirk, Spencer went back to his preparations, popping the meat into the microwave to thaw and pre-heating the oven. In the three months or so that he had been living with Aaron, Jack had grown quite fond of him.

Probably because Spencer knew more about dinosaurs than Aaron did.

By the time Jack had finished slurping the milk out of his bowl, Spencer had a few layers of noodles, sauce, and cheese snug in a pan. So far, it wasn't going too badly.

"Can I help?"

Small arms clung around his leg as Jack looked up at him in question.

"'Course you can," Spencer enthused, "do you want to help me make this cake for your daddy?"

Three hours later, both Spencer and Jack were covered in flour and on their second failed batch of cake mix. They were both having too much fun to care about that, though. It was a good thing Spencer had thought to buy extra eggs at the grocery store yesterday, or else he and Jack would have had to pick more up. Sometimes it paid to anticipate failure.

"You're all white!" Jack said, giggling as Spencer shook a cloud of flour out of his hair. It was looking more and more like dessert was going to be some ice cream, or store bought cupcakes.

"Alright kiddo, let's get you cleaned up and back into bed," Spencer said, attempting to brush as much of the flour as he could off of Jack before it got tracked through the entire house. That wasn't likely to please Aaron very much. The man was articulate when it came to the cleanliness of his home.

Jack only pouted for a few minutes until Spencer convinced him to go upstairs to rest by promising a story. Aaron was convinced that the only reason Jack had been going to sleep at his bed time without much of a fuss was because of Spencer's stories; and Spencer silently agreed.

He checked on the lasagna in the oven once before trailing up the stairs after Jack who had already climbed under the covers, waiting expectantly.

"Now, where were we?" Spencer asked, perching on the side of the bed and pressing the back of his hand to Jack's forehead to gauge his temperature – it was slowly but surely coming down.

"They had just gone back into the wardrobe!" Jack chirped.

Nodding, Spencer paused for a second, pulling up the book in his mind. Then he began to weave the tale.

"Spencer? Jack?" Aaron called, closing the front door behind him and immediately taking off his gun and placing it in a locked desk drawer. Something smelled delicious.

"Wait, wait, wait!" He heard Spencer call frantically from the kitchen, and Aaron stopped where he stood, puzzled. He could hear quite a bit of crashing and banging around coming from the kitchen, with the occasional view of his lover flitting back and forth from the table to the counters.

"Alright," he said warily, stripping off his suit jacket and tie before hanging them on the back of a chair.

A few minutes later, Spencer poked his head out from the kitchen and smiled at Aaron. "Okay. You can come in now."

Amused, Aaron padded across the living room and into the kitchen after Spencer, who was wearing a ridiculous floral apron and bouncing up and down where he stood. The lights had been dimmed, and an immaculate table had been set for two – candlesticks, an expensive looking bottle of red wine, and roses to match sat in the middle of the table.

Unable to keep the contentment out of his voice, Aaron reached over and pulled Spencer to his side. "It's beautiful," he said.

Pleased, Spencer pressed a light kiss to Aaron's lips and gestured for him to sit down.

Aaron sat at the table, opening a bottle of wine while Spencer retrieved the lasagna from the oven.

"It smells so good," he said, pulling the cork out with a short _pop _and pouring it into the two wine glasses.

"I should hope so, this thing took all day to cook." Spencer pulled his apron off and hung it on a hook before he set the lasagna on the table and served it onto their dishes. "There's garlic bread and salad, too."

"Spence, you are truly amazing," Aaron said, lifting his fork to his mouth as Spencer grabbed a piece of garlic bread.

Before either of them could take a sip of the wine, Aaron's phone began to ring in his pocket. It was closely followed by Reid's own phone, going off in the living room.

The two men looked up at each other from across the table. Of course. It had to be now.

Setting his fork down in resignation, Aaron pulled the blackberry out of his pocket. "Hotchner," he said shortly. Listening to the voice on the other line for a few minutes, Aaron gave a small sigh. "Alright. I'll drop Jack off with his aunt, and we'll be there as soon as we can." He hung up.

Spencer was still sitting at the table, watching Aaron forlornly over the candles and wine he had set out. "Tonight? Really?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Aaron stood up and started to head towards the stairs, pausing to lean over and give Spencer a soft kiss. "Happy Anniversary. Wheels up in an hour."


End file.
